Calling to the King
by Robbins2
Summary: A one shot that explores what happens when Sarah reaches breaking point. Toby's adolescent rebellion is testing her and when the Goblin King learns of his distress, he cannot stay away. The story contains disciplinary spanking of a minor. If that isn't to your taste, then this story isn't for you.


**Calling to the King**

 **DISCLAIMER - I do not own** **'Labyrinth' or the characters who people the story. I've only invited them around to my house for a visit.**

 **I was so sorry to hear of the death of David Bowie. The body of his art, from music, fashion, film, writing is an enormous contribution to culture and we can but be very grateful to him.**

Sarah lay in the silken softness of an autumn dusk, letting the fall of evening lower the curtain on a day that had left her tired and sad.

Around her, the familiar outline of her room fell into shade. She did not switch on the lamp by her bed, she would have been happy to melt into the serene darkness, lose herself in the shadows, let herself be light and free, like the stars far above.

From beyond her window, the soft hoot of a night owl came low and the sound was immensely soothing to her. Her lids fluttered, her head fell to one side, sleep came at last, driving back the turmoil of the day, calling her to a quiet, to longed for peace.

"Sarah."

She was dreaming. She did not open her eyes. The sound of her name had been no more than the swish of a curtain caught in a night breeze.

The faintest brush against her hair had her eyelids flickering. It felt like a gentle hand and even in a dream, it was comforting. She leaned her head into the cradle of that imagined touch, sighing deeply.

"Sarah."

This time, the whisper had her lifting her eyelids, slowly, tiredness cloying and at first there was only the deepening darkness. Then, a pair of eyes, oddly matched, one perfectly silver, one crystal jade pierced the gloom, mesmerising and terrifying all at once.

Suddenly wide awake and alert, Sarah would have bolted upright but a pair of gloved hands came to her shoulders, pressed her back against the pillows.

"Easy. You are safe."

Sarah's breath caught in her throat and her eyes went round. Perhaps it was the fall of faint moonlight through the curtain or perhaps she was growing accustomed to the dark but she made out a face leaning over her, patrician nose, square jaw, slanting lips.

"You're him. You're the Goblin King!"

Sarah's voice was a hoarse gasp, she had spoken mostly to her self, wondering if she was still dreaming, if this was simply a vibrant product of her over wrought mind.

"But you are not real. You can't be."

She looked up into those strangely magical eyes, saw one eyebrow rise at her words.

"Oh I am real."

Sarah saw the way the moonlight made the outline of his blonde hair a platinum halo against the darkness, heard the voice that she had imagined so often, she made herself believe it an actual memory.

Maybe it was the sound of that voice so close, so real, maybe it was half remembered magic but in that moment, Sarah felt herself simply let go of the burdens that had weighted down her heart for so long now. There was instant relief as she felt the torment just drain away before the spectre of a childhood knight.

As if welling to fill the void left by the aching anguish and worry, Sarah's tears came to her eyes in swell of scalding ferment.

They fell hot and unstoppable and were spurred by the gasping sobs that erupted from the very centre of herself.

Sarah sat up and this time, he did not try to stop her. Her arms wound around his neck, her face pressed into the curve of his shoulder and Sarah drew on every ounce of strenth she could feel in The Goblin King. He was warm and his chest felt reassuringly solid.

His arms circled her and held her to him. He had sensed a wrongness, a need and this is what had drawn him from the Underground, what had called him over her threshold. What he had not expected was this awful, gut wrenching grief. The chasm of pain within her seemed to have opened and he felt it rend her as it flowed in her tears, shaking her shoulders, stealing her breath.

So Jareth held her even as his shirt grew damp from her tears.

"You are the giver of dreams? You can make me see what I wish. You can do that, right?" she gasped, still clinging to him, her face buried in his shoulder.

"I can do that, yes."

Above her head, he frowned. There was something near to desperation, a plea from the very depths of her heart in her questions.

"Then do it. Give me a dream, any dream. I haven't slept in so long. Just make me forget."

She lifted herself away from him, just a fraction and looked into his face, her eyes swollen and even in the dim light he could see how thin her face looked. Her cheekbones were too pronounced, the sockets of her eyes too deep.

"What has happened Sarah?'

Summoning dreams was no challenge for the Goblin King but he always stepped lightly before tampering with the human mind. Unlike the fae, humans were complex beings, nothing was ever simple when it came to how they thought.

She dropped her head, tears plopped onto the back of her hand, sitting like a frail bird in her lap.

"Please Jareth."

The sound of his name on her lips caused his throat to tighten. And the sheer need in her plea had him lifting a hand and in the blink of an eye, a sparkling crystal orb spun just above his leather clad palm.

But he did not present it to her, he did not call her eyes to look within it, not yet.

"When I do this, you will sleep. Sarah. Deep and long. But when you awaken, you must answer my questions. And you must give me truthful answers. Those are my terms, Precious."

Sarah met the resolute study of those mismatched eyes. Slowly, she nodded.

"Very well."

He brought the crystal before her.

"Look here now. I have brought you a gift. Do you see? What is it you wish for, Sarah? I can give it to you. Just hold out your hand."

The timbre of his voice had changed, flowed like velvet and the words carressed her like soft, summer breezes.

Within the crystal, there were colours, such beautiful colours. Her heart lifted and she heard music and laughter and voices that she loved. She moved towards them.

Watching her eyelids flutter and close, Jareth reached for her as sleep claimed her and he gently set her back against the pillow. He stayed seated on the edge of her bed for long minutes, looking down and seeing her tear stained face, the way her dark hair seemed to dwarf her features. Where was the Sarah Williams he remembered, the firebrand child who had dared him to stop her taking what she wanted? Who had stormed the very gates of his own realm to claim what was hers?

Had that girl really grown into this fragile and damaged woman? If so, then he was sworn to find out what had caused such a dramatic change.

"Sleep now, Precious thing. I give what you ask tonight. Tomorrow I exact my price."

Morning light was golden behind the curtains when Sarah's eyes opened and she realised that the sun was already high in the sky. She blinked, disorieted. Last night, she had such strange but beautiful dreams and as she stretched beneath the downy covers, she felt more rested than she had in long, long days.

She sat up and looked around her, the room neat as always and empty. The house was quiet around her as she listened for long minutes and she realised that Toby must have left already. When was the last time she had slept later than her younger brother? She could not remember.

What had happened last night? She frowned and tried to remember, her thoughts distracted by the saffron light flooding her room and with it a feeling she had almost forgotten how to recognise, contentment. She sighed and threw back the duvet to swing her legs over the side of the bed. She slipped her feet into her slippers and drew her robe over her shoulders.

There had been unpleasantness last night, something to do with Toby, harsh words exchnaged, hurt. She was sure of that, though the details were somehow fuzzy in her mind.

There were other fragments floating around on the edge of her consciousness too, the sound of an owl, emerald and silver, a smile she strangely knew well. Well, she must have really zoned out last night, exhaustion finally overtaking her, Sarah thought as she made her way towards the kitchen.

This morning, she actually felt like breakfast, an omellette perhaps or some flakey croissants smothered in jelly. The rest had clearly reawakened her appetite and as the kitchen filled with the fragrant aroma of coffee brewing, she realised she was ravenous.

Still, the ethereal jigsaw pieces of last night's dreams lingered just behind her eyes. A face, a beautiful face, strong arms holding her, it had seemed so real, though Sarah knew that could not be so. Yet the feeling of being safe, cared for had been so powerful, that she felt it yet.

She lifted the last of the fluffy pancakes she had finally chosen for her morning meal from the skillet and opened the door of the refridgerator to seek what else she could find. Yes, there were strawberries, gleaming scarlet, they would do nicely, she thought, her tastebuds watering at the promise of warm, vanilla pancakes combined with the juicy berries.

She turned, the jar of fruit in her hand and almost dropped it on the floor at the sight of the man standing across the floor, watching her silently.

Her mought fell open at the sight. Blonde hair radiant in the fall of morning sunlight streaming in from the french doors, his fine mouth lifted in a knowing smile, arms folded, the Goblin King certainly knew how to make an entrance.

She was still dreaming, that was it, Sarah told herself, as her numb fingers set the strawberries on the countertop, thoughts of eating vanishing like mist before the dawn.

"You're him! You are the Goblin King," she whispered, staring at the other wordly vision standing on her kitchen floor.

"So you keep telling me."

"I thought I was dreaming," Sarah said almost to herself.

His booted feet crossed the floor in swift strides and he pulled a stool from the counter.

"Sit, Sarah, before you fall down," he instructed and it was a measure of her surprise that she obeyed without thinking.

"You were here last night!"

His mismatched eyes twinkled mockingly at her as he inclined his head.

"You called for me."

Sarah shook her head.

"No. No I am sure I didn't," she said firmly.

"I am not a child now, believing that magic words actually work."

"And yet here I am," his head tilted.

"But how? I don't remember calling you," Sarah's brows drew together as she scanned through her jumbled thoughts, trying to bring her memories to order.

A small scowl marred his own perfect features.

"I am not sure. I felt you more than heard you. But call to me you did, Sarah. Which brings me to business. You made a promise last night."

The sardonic smile faded and his face grew almost stern.

Perhaps he had worked some secret charm but the events of last night were becoming clear in Sarah's mind, as though a veil was lifting. She had heard the soft hoot of an owl and then he was there. She had cried like a child in his arms and to think of this now in the light of day, Sarah blushed furiously and dropped her eyes to the untouched plate of food before her.

A gloved hand pushed the plate closer to her.

"But first, eat. You look like you haven't had a good meal in a while."

This time, his command met with resistence.

"I am fine! But I want to know how you come to be here and who do you think you are, suddenly bossing me about? This is not the Labyrinth, it's my home and you have no...,"

"Stop."

He rose a warning hand.

"We are past that. If I have no power over you, how is it that it was me you cried out for even when there were no words left in you? How is it that I could reach you though you hurt more than you could could bear?"

The odd eyes flashed, his jaw clenched. He did not seem to find this a particularly pleasing situation.

"I didn't mean to summon you. I didn't even know I was doing that. I am sorry but I am fine," she insisted.

"Eat, Sarah. Then we talk."

His eyes dropped to the forgotten breakfast growing cold on the plate. This time, it was not an instruction but an order.

He stood at the edge of the counter, his hand resting lightly on the granite surface, a seemingly casual stance but his tone had brooked no debate.

Sarah picked up her knife and fork, focused on the food in front of her. She took her time with each bite, though she tasted none of it. She could buy some time to think, to work out just what was going on and how she could regain some control in a situation that was becoming more surreal by the second.

Too soon, the plate was clean and there was suddenly nowhere left to hide. So, Sarah kept her head bowed, letting the fall of her dark hair act as a shield from his silent scrutiny.

"Good girl."

"I am not a child!" her tone was sharp as annoyance climbed.

"No. You are not," he said, a strangely speculative note in his voice.

Slowly, Sarah stole a peak at him from beneath her fringe. He was regarding her with a mixture of amusement and confusion.

Small wonder, she thought derisively. She must look a fright, a scarecrow girl beside this elegant, regal man. She knew that she had lost weight recently, not in a flattering way but so that her clothes hung on her as though they belonged to someone else. There were black rings under her eyes and even to herself, her hair seemed to fall in a lustreless and thin veil around her face.

He, on the other hand, looked poised and self controlled as always. His long legs were encased in pale coloured britches that vanished into tall leather

boots that hugged his calves. He wore a high collared three quarter length coat in shades of midnight blue that sat over broad shoulders and beneath, a leather vest that followed the line of his waist. His white shirt was open at the neck, the strange copper symbol he always wore at his throat just visible.

"You have done well for yourself in the above ground world," he mused, glancing at a photograph on the windowsill, showing a smiling Sarah, dressed in a glamorous gown and clutching a silver award. The photograph, taken at an artisan film festival awards ceremony two years ago seemed to show a different girl. Confidant in the designer gown that had cost too much but was too lovely not to have, Sarah clutched her Best Actress Award. She had looked happy, joyful even and poised on the brink of a promising future.

So much had happened since then, she thought, the dreams that girl had hoped for had somehow shattered, blown away like dust.

"Yes. I suppose so," she nodded.

"But you are not happy."

It was a statement and Sarah felt the need to refute it. She was where she was and there was nothing to be done about it.

"I am fine, Jareth."

"That makes three times you have told me that. I didn't believe you the first time and I still don't. Time to make good on your word, Precious. What has happened? What is it that is hurting you so?"

Sarah stood and lifted the empty plate, carrying it to the sink, just to give her hands something to do and as bonus, it meant she could turn her back to him, excape his probing gaze.

"Jareth, it's complicated. Last night was just a low ebb for me. I can take care of things," she said.

She gazed out of the window onto the backyard, at the pots of herbs she had sown, the swath of lawn that bordered the paving stones that led to the all looked so ordinary, so normal. Yet here she was standing in her kitchen with Fae royalty.

Jareth had remained silent. For his part, he was growing weary of her prevarications. Stupid pride was locking her tongue. So he fixed a cooly dispassionate look on his face, aloof, his bowstring mouth lifted in a taunting shadow smile. There was another way to learn what he wanted.

"Is that what you call it? Sarah I know breaking point when I see it. You have always rated your capabilities rather highly. One look at you and it is plain that you are giving yourself rather more credit than deserved."

She turned, glared at him.

"I was strong enough to defeat you once. I am strong enough to stand up to you now! You have no idea what my capabilities are!"

Her eyes flashed at him and he was pleased to see some colour rise in the hollow cheeks.

"Where were you when Dad and my stepmother got divorced? Where were you when she left us? Where were you when he decided that his twenty three years old girlfriend matters so much more than Toby? Than me? And where were you, Goblin King when Toby... When Toby..."

Given wings on the jet stream of her temper, Sarah's words drowned in the tears that swelled in her eyes and burned in her throat.

Again, she bowed her head, unable to meet the autocratic gaze of the commander of the Labyrinth.

He drew in a breath, waited while her shoulders trembled as she tried to get her emotions back under her control.

"Go on, Sarah. What about Toby?"

Now his voice was merely soft, no trace of the goading arrogance. This was the root of it, the brother she loved with all of her heart.

"When Toby started to hate me."

It was all he could do to catch the ragged whisper.

"Come. Sit down now and take a few deep breaths. You gave me your promise that you would answer my questions, Precious. I am calling it in now," Jareth was suddenly taking her arm and leading her back to the stool by the counter.

Sarah lowered herself onto it and swiped the tears on her face with the back of her hand.

"Why does Toby hate you?"

She sniffled, a sad little sound that reminded him just how fragile humans could be.

"He blames me for his mother leaving. He thinks I drove her away. Dad is not really here, not since he met Kirsten and so it is just the two of us. There isn't anyone else for Toby to vent his anger at and sometimes, sometimes, he is cruel and hurtful and I feel I am losing the only family I have left."

"How old is Toby now? Time in the above world moves so differently." Jareth calculated that at least ten years in this realm must have passed for Sarah, an adolescent girl when he last met her had blossomed into a young woman of considerable beauty, though the torment she carried gave her a haunted, defeated air.

"He will be twelve soon. It's an age when a boy needs his father, needs his parents but Toby, all he has is me."

"Insubordination I understand and have some experience dealing with as it happens. A hot headed goblin and a petulant teenage boy are not entirely dissimilar," he said.

Sarah made a sound that was almost a sign of humour.

"So what is your advice, Goblin King? What do you recommend I do? Ground him for a month in the Bog of Eternal Stench? Give him a time out in a dank oubliette?"

"Let me talk to him."

Sarah could not have been more surprised and then a dread thought made her stomach turn to water. She lifted rounded, frightened eyes to the msimatched study of her companion.

"I won't wish him away! I told you, I can handle this!" her protest was almost a plea and he shook his head at her.

"No, not wish him away. What use have I for a brat with attitude? You said it yourself, he needs a father figure. A firm hand. It may be better for him to hear a few truths from someone who is more removed from the situation than you, someone less involved."

"What have you to lose, Precious?"

Jareth rose an enquiring brow, his magical eyes quizical.

Sarah thought quickly. She had nothing to lose, she supposed. She doubted that Jareth could simply work his fae tricks and sleights of hand and turn Toby back into the carefree, happy boy she loved but it was a relief to have someone willing to help.

"You aren't going to take him to the Underground?" she looked at him hopefully.

"I give you my word."

"Well, okay, it can't hurt to try but I am telling you, Toby is filled with anger and there is so much happeneing that he does not really understand. He is just a boy. Jareth, it's not possible he will remember you. He may not even believe you are real," she said.

He smirked, the self assurance back.

"I think I can find a way to persuade him," he said.

And so, some hours later, when the front door closed with a loud thud announcing that Toby had returned from school, Jareth, the Goblin King was standing in the kitchen, his back to the the door, gazing out on the lawn and looking perfectly at home.

The boy had called no greeting to his sister, Jareth noted privately. Though he did not turn around as he heard Toby approach, he knew by the sound of his footsteps that the boy faltered at the sight of a stranger in his kitchen.

"Who the Hell are you?"

Jareth turned slowly, the boy was standing still in the doorway, his expression surly, his stance hostile.

He let his eyes roam from the messy hair to the grungy jeans and then rest pointedly on the backpack that Toby had let fall with a heedless thud on the floor.

"You are taller than when I last saw you. And a little less charming than I remember," Jareth said at last.

Toby's lip curled.

"Do I know you?"

"No."

"Well then, what are you doing in my house? Did you, like break in here?" Toby glanced around, planted his feet a little more solidly.

"No."

"I asked you a question! Who are you, Dude and how did you get in here? If I don't get an answer I'm calling the cops!" Toby's voice rose.

In reply, Jareth maintained his appraising study of the boy, a slight lift at the corner of his mouth hinting that he was not impressed. And certainly not intimidated.

"Don't you want to put that away?" Jareth's gaze indicated the bag lying drunkenly in the doorway.

"Right, I like warned you!"

Toby strode to the phone on the wall and picked up the receiver, keeping one eye trained on the man standing in the weird get-up.

Jareth lifted a tea towel from a rack by the sink, let it drape over his other hand. Suspiciously, Toby watched the movement. His fingers found the dial, pressed the digit 9.

The towel was in the air though Toby did not see the man move. His fingers stilled on the dial and then his face contorted into a look of horror as the hissing form of a serpent flew towards him.

He yelped and dropped the phone. It landed with a clatter on the tiled floor and not far from it the tea towel fluttered to a rest. The boy lifted confused eyes to the stranger. Then he began to back from the room.

"Toby, pick up your bag, put it away. Then you and I will talk about some things that are going to change around here."

The kitchen door closed firmly behind Toby, blocking retreat. Wide eyed, the boy stared at Jareth, kept his back pressed against the frame of the door and made no move to obey.

"Bag. Now."

Jareth's eyes hardened and he saw Toby's colour drain as the fear he had been trying hard to mask overtook the bravado.

Slowly, Toby bent, retrieved the backpack and stowed it neatly on a hanger in the laundry room that led from the kitchen.

"Good. Before we go any further, you are not in any danger. I am not a burgler and I am not going to hurt you. I am Jareth, I am your sister's friend," the Goblin King rewarded the show of compliance with the reassurance.

"My sister? Sarah doesn't have very many friends. You are from the theatre, right? I should have guessed, your clothes ain't exactly street Dude," Toby eyed the man, the sneer returning.

Jareth issued no denial, instead he walked to the plush sofa that sat in the lounge off the kitchen. He lowered himself onto it and stretched out his arms on the back of the couch. He lifted a foot, rested his ankle on his knee and regarded the boy with the same stony look on his face.

"So now we talk, Toby," he said.

"As I mentioned, you have grown taller than the last time I saw you. You are becoming a young man. And young men need to pull their weight around a house. So I think one of the things we need to look at it is what chores around here you can start taking responsibility for to help your sister out."

Jareth pursed his lips and squinted as though in deep thought.

"The lawn out there needs some work. I think you could step up for that. Sarah tells me she likes to cook. So I think that balances out nicely with you cleaning up after each meal. Any other ideas, Toby?"

Toby scowled and then laughed harshly.

"Yea, I got an idea for you. Get lost and mind your own business! Screwing my sister does not give you the right to start bossing me around. We ain't gonna bond like buddies, Dude and you are not my father!"

Jareth was on his feet instantly. He paced towards the boy, his steps rapping out a brutal rythym on the marble floor.

"And that's another thing. You will not talk about your sister in such a way, you will not talk to her without a civil tongue in your head. No excuses, no exceptions. In fact, you owe Sarah an apology for the way you have been upsetting her recently and you will give it boy or I can promise you, you will not care for the alternative!"

Jareth leaned closer, let Toby see the flare of anger within his eyes, the iron set of his jaw.

"You can't threaten me!" Toby did not sound so sure of himself, faced with the irate Goblin King.

"I do not threaten. That was a warning. You will have only one."

"Where do you get off? All this heavy handed stuff to impress Sarah? What has she been saying about me anyway? How much better she would be if she could get rid of me like she did Mom? God, she's pathetic!" Toby turned, strode to the french doors and reached out a hand to open one.

Gloved fingers closed over his wrist in a vice like grip and he was propelled back into the lounge before he could rightly resist.

"I made myself clear. So you don't want to listen. Have it your way."

Jareth's tone was like liquid ice. It even had the effect of making Toby feel frozen. But it was the look on his face that truly terrified the boy. Glacial eyes blazed at him and a nerve twiched in the stranger's temple. Toby wanted to look away from that merciless face, wanted to run but found he could not.

"I told you that you would not care for the alternative to improving your behaviour. There are consequences for defying me, Toby," Jareth ground out between clenched teeth.

Toby's stomach dropped with fright when he really looked at the other man and realised that he had a slim, chestnut brown finely tooled leather riding crop in his right hand. Though Toby really wanted to look at something else, wanted to banish the thoughts of what might be about to happen, he felt his mouth go dry and he gulped.

"What are you going to do with that?" he asked.

Jareth tapped the crop against his leg, let the sound of it sing in the room for a long second. Then he lowered himself back onto the couch.

He read the boy's terror in one glance, he could almost hear his heart punding.

"Nothing. But you are about to be punished. I am going to put you over my knee and if you fight me or defy me further, then I will use the crop."

Toby looked into the hard eyes and he believed him.

"Come here."

"I am not a little kid!" Toby felt panicked, torn between the compulsion to obey the peremptory command and the self preservation instinct that bid him flee.

"You can walk over here on your own two feet or you can be dragged by me."

The man looked unperturbed, perfectly prepared for either scenario. Toby swallowed hard.

"What are you doing, Dude? Sarah said it was okay to hit me? She wouldn't do that!" Toby was humiliated by the tremble in his voice, set his face in a petulant scowl to compensate.

"No I wouldn't! I didn't."

Sarah's outraged denial came from the doorway. Neither Jareth nor Toby had heard her come in. But now, the Goblin King looked over his shoulder, his face hardened into stern lines. He shook his head, a silent caution.

Sarah's stomach tightened and hot anger flushed through her, bringing high colour to her cheeks. How dare he? He said he would help with Toby, did assault qualify as helpfulness in the Underground?

"Your permission is not required, Sarah. Discipline is long overdue for this young man. I suggest you step out and leave me to administer it."

The way the Goblin King spoke, he made it sound as though she did not really have a choice in it. Sarah looked at the fright on Toby's face and she looked stricken herself. What had she done?

"Jareth..."

Whatever appeal Sarah would have made was cut short when a short, stout and dearly familiar figure appeared before her.

"Hoggle! What are you doing here?" she cried.

He shuffled a foot, looked up at her balefully.

"Sometimes, for no reason at all, you just need us, right? I think you need a friend now."

Sarah could not help but smile at the bashful tone of the little dwarf.

Hoggle glanced into the living room, Toby stared back, stunned into silence.

"Sarah. Let him do it. The boy needs a firm hand and a lesson in manners. I've seen how he talks to you, the things he does. Jareth won't hurt him."

Her old friend laid a roughened hand over hers and led her away from the doorway. Torn, Sarah permitted herself to be drawn away but she paced the carpet in her room, furious, fearful and guilty.

"He had no right, Hoggle! He's always so arrogant! Toby will hate me now for sure," she moaned.

"Toby will look for you later. Right now, he is in his room and it is best to give him some time to process what has happened and to compose himself."

The sight of the Goblin King standing in the doorway of her bedroom stilled Sarah's feet and silenced her tirade.

"Hagshead, you can leave us."

With a single glance, Jareth dismissed his aged subject, who gave Sarah one last look of empathy and with a bow was gone.

"What did you do?" Sarah demanded.

"I think you know very well what I did. And I think you know it was well deserved," he replied, his tone chill.

"He's a confused boy and you scared the daylights out of him! You could have hurt him! And maybe you did. I should check on him."

Sarah made to push past him, but he raised a hand to stop her.

"I hurt nothing more than his pride. His rear end may feel a little warmer than he is comfortable with but there is not a mark on him. What he needs is some time to cool off and to think," Jareth sounded so sure of himself, Sarah paused, looking up at him, uncertain.

"Fussing over him and making him feel like a martyr will not help. Precious. Toby needs to face up to his behaviour and take responsibility for it. Give him the chance to do that."

Sarah looked into the beautiful, mismatched eyes and crossed her arms.

"You told me once that you can be cruel."

"I also told you that I move the stars for no-one. No one but you."

He reached out and let one long, shapely finger trace the outline of her jaw. Sarah saw warmth flare in his eyes, a momentary heat and then, his expression was schooled once more into planes of haughty superiority.

He moved to the window and looked out on the coming night. Without another word he opened opened the catch, a faint breeze came and lifted the lace curtain and before it settled, he was gone.

Sarah stood in the sudden silence of her room and wondered if she would see him again.

It was close to midnight when she got her answer. This time, there was no soft hoot to forewarn her of his approach. There was just a darkening shadow by her bed where he was suddenly standing close to the side of her bed, tall, spectral. An indigo cape fluttered from his shoulders and though shaded in veils of the night, he somehow managed to look magnificent enough to make her breath catch.

"I'm glad you came," she whispered.

He rewarded her with a lift of his lips, his head tilting in curiosity.

"I thought I was persona non grata," he said.

"I was wrong. Toby, he and I talked this evening, the first time we really talked in I don't know how long. He talked about his anger and how much he misses his Mom and I told him I understand that because I miss mine too, even though I sometimes feel so mad that she just left me. I guess it felt good to be just us. He knows that we need to watch out for each other. He even gave me a list of chores he is going to take responsibilty for from now on."

The Goblin King looked impressed.

"I thought that you were too harsh. But it worked, it really made Toby think about the way he's been bahaving. That can't be a bad thing. Thank you, Jareth."

To her surprise he came and sat gracefully poised on the side of her mattress.

"I am not a monster, Sarah."

"You were pretty terrifying when I saw you with Toby this afternoon."

"Do I frighten you, Precious thing?"

She shook her head and gave a little laugh. Even to her own ears it sounded artificial. To his credit, Jareth smiled and let her attempt at bravado stand.

Then Sarah's heart seemed to freeze in her chest as he leaned over her, his beautiful face inches from hers, his breath soft as angel feathers against her skin.

His star gifted eyes followed the lines of her face, the fall of her hair on the pillow.

His mouth quirked.

"Precious," he breathed.

Sarah blinked and her mouth opened a little but words were drowned in the swell of unfamiliar feelings that rushed warm and sweet and deliciously through her.

His lips, full and fine were close to hers, his scent of new leaves and fresh rain was suddenly everywhere. She was aware of how the bed dipped beneath her as his weight shifted.

He smiled, a vulpine flash of teeth and again, a strange fire burned in his eyes.

"If ever I decide to issue you with a spanking, I promise that we will both enjoy it very much."


End file.
